


42. Coming home for the first time

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [42]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:26:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4554216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warnings for heavy verbal humiliation and pissplay including urine ingestion</p>
    </blockquote>





	42. Coming home for the first time

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for heavy verbal humiliation and pissplay including urine ingestion

It's not the first time Stephen's used his fob and key to gain entry to the private elevator up to the penthouse, it's not the first time he's slid the key home in the front door, but it all feels kinda wonderful, because this is now _home_. _Home is where the heart is, right?_ he thinks to himself, smiling, as he pushes the door open and steps in. He nudges it shut and drops his key on the console, toes out of his sneakers and carries his bag through. "Tony?" he calls out. "I'm home."

"Right here," Antony calls back, adjusting the wall-mounted TV screen a bit to the left and checking it with the level. He grins at Stephen over his shoulder as his lover, his boy, steps into view. "What do you think?" Stepping out of the way so Stephen can get the full effect.

"Ooh," Stephen coos appreciatively. "Hmm, that's...big," he grins, wandering over to slide an arm around Antony's waist and plant a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you," he murmurs.

"It's a smart TV. You can check your email, browse the web, play games..." Antony says, smiling, words trailing off in favour of a kiss.

"Watch 'Arrow'?" Stephen chuckles as he turns into Antony's body and tugs him close. "Hmm, hello live-in-lover of mine," he whispers against Antony's mouth.

"Hello." Antony grins and kisses Stephen again, licking into his mouth. So fucking happy to have Stephen here. Not only here but _living_ here. With him. "I have one more present," he murmurs.

" _Another_ present? Collars, TVs and more?" Stephen nuzzles against Antony's mouth. "You're spoiling me...don't stop," he adds with a smile.

"It's on the table behind you," Antony says, nodding at a small cardboard box.

Another kiss then Stephen pulls away and turns to the table and the box. He flips open the cardboard and blinks, the light just catching the intricate patterns in the wood. Easing [the box](http://citadel.mediawood.net/hache_box.jpg) out, Stephen holds it in his hands, turns it over to admire the stunning work. He looks up at his lover. "This is...this is beautiful," and he doesn't need to ask if it's the real deal - an antique - because there's evidence of Antony's excellent taste scattered around his apartment.

"It's French, 18th century," Antony says, loving the look on Stephen's face, the way he appreciates every gift, both small and large. "And it locks. I thought we could put it on the front table, in the foyer, and you could switch between your collars coming and going."

"18th century?" Stephen looks at the box anew. "Wow, just wow, I've never... no one has ever given me something like this." He sets it down and runs his fingers over the patterns, wondering how many other hands have held this. "For my collars?" He's glancing back at Antony again, just for a moment. "Yeah... I like that they're kept in something so beautiful, so special." But he's not putting it out in the foyer yet, tonight he wants to keep it close to examine it more.

"Like you," Antony says softly, smiling at Stephen, thrilled that his present has gone over so well.

A small frown wrinkles Stephen's forehead and then he laughs shaking his head. "Maybe," he concedes, because it would be down right rude to rebut that compliment from his lover.

Antony grins. No maybe about it. "Speaking of collars, go get your other one and I'll change them."

One more brush of his fingers over the wood, and then Stephen straightens up. "Yeah sure," he smiles and heads off to their bedroom, returning minutes later with his slave collar in his hands. He sinks to his knees in front of Antony and offers it up.

As always, the sight of Stephen on his knees steals Antony's breath away. He removes the away collar, palming it in his hand while he places the slave collar around Stephen's throat, padlocking it closed. "I told you last night what I planned to do with you, how I intend to mark my property," he says quietly, firmly. "Would it be better if we did that now, or later, after we've had dinner?"

"Now," Stephen's already thought about this, because he was sure his lover would ask him, out of deference to his day at work if nothing else. He'd grabbed a protein bar on his way out of his trailer and eaten it on the way home, so he's good to go for an hour or so. That way he can come up out of headspace in his own time. "Please," he adds with a slightly mischievous grin.

Fuck yes. Antony's cock kicks up in anticipation. "Good. Get naked and in the shower. I want my boy on his knees, waiting for me."

Because it's eye level, Stephen doesn't miss the way his words affect his Sir, he can see that thick flesh respond. He hums a soft sound to himself before nodding and murmuring a quiet, "Yes Sir." He drops down onto all fours and turns, crawling his way out of the living area and down the hall to the main bathroom. Once there he rolls to his feet, swiftly removes his clothing, piling it up neatly and then steps into the huge shower cubicle.

Antony removes his clothes where he stands, watching his cock spring free in his reflection in the windows. Fuck. He wraps his fingers around it, thinking of what, who, is waiting for him in the other room. His boy. _His._ A spurt of precome slicks his fingers and he groans, heading tilting back with pleasure. It'll make it harder to piss on his boy, but hell, he can always reverse the steps. Come then piss.

Stephen sets himself on his knees, closes his eyes and takes a breath, letting go of his day and turning his focus on his body, on the vague soreness in his ass, the slight ache of an overworked muscle in one shoulder, the loosening of the tension along his spine. "I am owned, I am loved, I am wanted," he murmurs to himself.

Joining Stephen in the bathroom, Antony steps into the shower, his cock thickening even further at the sight of his boy, on his knees, chain collar and lock around his throat. "You are so fucking beautiful," he murmurs, touching Stephen's cheek.

Lifting his lids, Stephen gives his Sir the full benefit of his deep blue eyes, lets his lover see him - stripped back - waiting. He tilts his head into that caress, lets the words wash over him, because in the next breath he's sure he'll be humiliated. "I am yours," he states softly.

"Yes, you are," Antony says, nodding. "My boy, my property, my slut, my cunt, my dirty little pig..."

Somehow, the words seem _more_ , their effect is certainly amplified in Stephen's mind, and later he'll wonder if that was due to his lover having spoken so warmly to him just moments before. _You are so fucking beautiful,_ becomes _slut, cunt, pig..._. Whatever the reason, those words, the tone used have Stephen swaying on his knees, his cock rearing up in seconds and his skin flushing with disgusted want.

"So fucking dirty, aren't you?" Antony murmurs, cock now in hand, the wet tip rubbed across Stephen's lips. "Waiting for your sir to come on your fucking face, cover you with his piss."

Lips parting, Stephen holds back the urge to flick his tongue out and taste that sticky precum, to touch Sir's dick. It's a struggle, he can smell Antony's arousal, his wonderfully musky male scent, but he's not been given permission, so he tilts his head a little and answers the question put to him. "Yes, a dirty fucking pig for Sir."

"A dirty fucking pig whose cunt I can't use right now," Antony points out, rubbing harder, his hand moving up and down the shaft. "Because I fucking tore it up, didn't I?"

"Yes! Yes you did," Stephen agrees, his lips moving over that wet, blunt head as he speaks. "Ripped it open... used boy properly." His fingers press into his thighs as he fights the urge to kiss, suck...taste.

"You want this, don't you?" Antony says, smacking Stephen in the face with his cock. Smearing precome all over his cheeks. "Want my seed inside you any way you can get it."

Grunting at the blow - it doesn't hurt obviously - but it does catch him out - Stephen nods. "Yes! Please...this boy is your cum dump...any way you want to use him."

Antony grins, eyes gone dark. "Tongue only," he says with a smirk.

Stephen's tongue is out in moments, he licks over the crimson skin of Antony's cock head, lapping hungrily at the beading precum, then leans in, head turned to lick along the side, over his Sir's fingers and down to his high, tight testicles.

"Oh, fuck," Antony breathes, hands curling into fists as he tamps down the urge to change his mind and fuck his boy's throat. "Get in there," he orders. "Lick my balls."

Wasting no time Stephen sets about his task with fervour, licking greedily at Sir's balls, nosing in as far as he can, up behind them too to press his tongue to that sensitive place, rocking up off his heels to do so.

"Greedy little fuck pig," he growls, groaning as Stephen gets his tongue _right there_ \- fuck - his cock jerking sharply in response. "You like that, don't you? Sweaty balls, musk on your fucking tongue." He draws back, turning and slapping his hands against the tile, his legs spread wide. "Get your tongue up my ass, pig. Show me just how fucking badly you want my come and piss."

It's been a while since Antony let him do this... and Stephen groans at the order. Rimming his Sir is so much dirtier in his mind than rimming Antony his lover. Snuffling along between Sir's splayed thighs Stephen seeks out his goal, nuzzles his face up tight and then goes to work on eating his Sir's ass, like a man starved.

"That's it. Get your tongue in there, pig. Fucking eat me out, you worthless piece of shit," Antony growls, pushing back, down, making sure Stephen has his face in there nice and tight, every stab of his tongue pushing a drop of precome from his cock.

Stephen's in that perfect bubble of subspace, where there is nothing in the world but his Sir, and himself, and he's serving his Sir. Eyes closed, breath muffled, his tongue working hard and hungry, Stephen give everything to pleasuring his Sir.

"You think that's good enough?" Antony says, head dropping between his shoulders, his arousal building fast despite his words. "You fucking little slut. You think that's even close to getting you what you want?"

There's no stopping Stephen now, he brings his hands into play, up to cup Antony's butt cheeks, then his fingers inching inward to pull his Sir open as wide as he can, and that done, Stephen presses his tongue against his hole and wiggles it until he's in, then he sets about tongue fucking his Sir with all he has, spit spilling over his chin, dropping in long strings to the floor, his breath coming in short, noisy snuffling snorts as he totally debases himself for Sir's pleasure.

"That's it, you fucking nasty cunt," Antony growls, his breath catching hard for a moment before he continues. "You get in there. You get your tongue up my ass and you eat me out. That's what you're fucking for. Fucking made for this."

All Stephen can smell is Sir, all Stephen can taste is the dirty musk of his Sir's ass, all Stephen can do is worm his tongue further up into Antony's hole, licking, mouthing, eating. Desperate and urgent.

Another low groan and Antony shifts forward, body trembling. "Enough," he orders, so fucking close it's all he can do not to go over, not to rob his boy of his reward.

One last deep flick of his tongue and then Stephen drops down onto his heels, his face red, his mouth and chin smeared in spit and drool. "Sir," he acknowledges the order, his breath heaving and his pupils blown wide.

"Pig," Antony murmurs, turning, leaning back against the tile, his hand on his cock, stroking roughly, the tip pointed at Stephen's face.

"Yes Sir," Stephen nods, gazing up at his owner, his world. "Sir's fuck pig...Sir's toy."

"Damn right," Antony says, working his cock so roughly now it almost hurts, his breath coming harder, faster, his body so fucking close, his eyes locked on Stephen's face as he comes, each ragged spurt hitting his boy's skin, painting his face, forehead, cheeks, mouth. Christ. " _Mine._ "

Stephen's lashes flutter shut when the first spurt hits his skin, he stays there, lips slightly parted, face turned up as he listens to his Sir orgasm. It's so hot, he's so turned on, the taste of his Sir's ass still on his tongue that Stephen finds his own hips moving as cum dribbles from his own dick.

"You think you could come like this, pig?" Antony says, watching Stephen's cock drip, his hips rock. "Think having my piss added to what's on your face would be enough to push you over, you fucking nasty little slut?" His cock slowly softening a little, his bladder full, two pints of water downed earlier guaranteeing it.

All he manages is a nod, Stephen's too far gone to talk, not when he's so utterly focused on his Sir. He stares up, cum sliding down his face, dripping off his chin down onto his thighs, he's not really aware of his own dick, his own body, all his reactions are spontaneous, unthinking.

"Then do it, cunt. Fucking piss bucket," Antony says, letting go, the stream weak for an instant before it strengthens, his aim true as he covers the same territory - forehead, cheeks, mouth. Christ. "Open up," he growls, suddenly wanting to see Stephen drink it. Right from his cock, not from the fucking floor like the last time.

The warm piss hits him first on his cheek, then his Sir moves his dick until it's all over his face, down his neck, running down his torso. Stephen moans, his mouth opening the moment Sir grinds out the order, the nasty bitter taste has him recoiling in disgust for a moment, until he makes himself swallow, then open up again, proving exactly what his Sir had said; he's a fucking piss bucket. The realisation of this, the acknowledgement to himself of what he's doing - has his body tipping over into his climax.

Fuck. It's almost like another orgasm in itself, watching Stephen come without being touched, from being humiliated, debased so thoroughly, covered in his sir's piss and come. "I fucking _own_ you," Antony says, reaching out to grip Stephen's jaw, look deep into his eyes. "You're mine. Every fucking inch of you - inside and out."

"Yes." It's the only word Stephen can summon as he stares back, utterly stripped back to nothing, kneeling here in a pool of piss, naked and filthy. He swallows and blinks and stays perfectly still, poised to obey whatever order he's to receive next.

"Good boy." Antony nods, beyond pleased. "Stand up."

Lacking all his usual grace and physical finesse, Stephen rolls slowly to his feet, he's a disgusting mess, but utterly blissed out in a way only Antony has ever managed to induce in him.

"I'm so proud of you," Antony says softly, touching Stephen's dirty cheek. "And that was incredible, but now we're going to get cleaned up and dressed, and you're going to come sit with me while I make dinner. Okay?"

Stephen blinks, takes a moment to process then he nods. "Yes Sir," he leans into that touch, his eyes still wide, his pupils still blown.

"You are so fucking beautiful," Antony says, taking one more moment to enjoy his creation before he turns the shower on, full blast, nice and hot. He grabs the soap and washes Stephen first, then himself, rinsing them both off quickly, kissing wet clean skin as he goes.

The sure, firm and loving hands of his Sir help ground Stephen, pulling him back from the more floaty, spaced out part of his subspace. Allowing him to be a little more interactive, so he can touch his Sir, return kisses, and smiling at how wonderfully attentive his Sir is with him.

"Are you hungry?" Antony asks, towelling Stephen dry, his own towel wrapped around his hips. "I've got vegetables and chicken cut up for a stir-fry, noodles too."

"Very," Stephen murmurs. "Is there any cake? Or cookies in?" He lets his fingers dance along the nape of Antony's neck as his Sir bends over, a barely there touch. "Will you always want me?" he asks suddenly, "Like this?"

"There's cookies from the bakery around the corner, and yes, always," Antony says, looking up at Stephen. "Are you worried about that?"

Stephen shrugs. "Tell a boy a hundred times no one will want him forever, I guess it takes two hundred times to hear different," he sounds oddly detached, casual almost. He lets his fingers keep moving, over Antony's upturned face now, tracing his brow bones, then his lips.

"I'll tell you every day if that what it takes," Antony says, turning his head to kiss those fingers. "But I meant it when I put that collar around your throat. This is forever for me."

"Show me your hands," Stephen lets his own fall away, as he speaks, his voice low and soft.

Antony sets the towel down and holds up his hands, unsure.

Reaching out he takes Antony's right hand in his, his fingers trace over the back for a moment, noting a few tiny scars, then he grips Antony's ring, the one he'd given him just a few days ago, and works it off. Then with studied concentration he takes Antony's left hand and puts the ring on his last but one finger, pushing it down until it sits snug. "Forever," he murmurs.

Antony's chest tightens, so fucking hard he can barely breathe, much less speak. Instead, he brings Stephen's hands to his mouth and kisses them, nodding, his eyes locked on his boy's, his lover's. And then he wraps his arms around Stephen, hugging him close, finally whispering, "I love you, so much."

He winds his arms around Antony, presses his face into the crook of his lover's neck, his skin smells of soap, and Stephen nuzzles until he can feel Antony's pulse beneath the sensitive skin of his lips. "I love you too," he returns, "I really do."

///

The stir-fry smells amazing and Antony's stomach is grumbling like crazy. He splits the noodles between two plates and tops them with the chicken and vegetables, sliding one plate across the island to Stephen. "What do you want to drink?" he asks, pulling a beer from the fridge for himself.

"Water's fine." Stephen's fork is poised before his plate is fully set in front of him, he's so freaking hungry, he muses that maybe a protein bar wasn't enough earlier. "Thank you," he motions at his food before tucking in, his hunger getting the better of his manners in waiting for Antony.

"You're welcome." Antony pours Stephen a glass and sets it by his plate, coming around to settle on the stool beside him. He watches Stephen eat for a moment before starting in on his own meal. "You really were hungry, weren't you?" He smiles.

"Um yeah," Stephen manages between mouthfuls, he nods and flashes Antony a smile. He swallows and elaborates, "Lot of physical stuff today, and I didn't get long for lunch, s'good job you sent me off with a decent breakfast inside me this morning."

Which means Stephen is not just hungry, but starving at this point. Christ. "Next time, you should eat something when you get in. I can wait to jump you," Antony points out, taking a big bite of stir-fry.

Stephen;s grin is all teeth and brilliant, "You might be able to wait," he snorts, twirling noodles around his fork. "I had to wait nearly 24 hours for that, from when you told me what you were going to do," he points out. "So have milk and cookies ready for me when I get in hm?" he raises a brow and shoves the food in his mouth.

"Will do," Antony agrees easily. "You think I wasn't looking forward to it all day too though?" He grins, eyes crinkling at their corners. "It was all I could do to keep my mind on work with Marcus."

"He must really hate me," Stephen laughs, picking up his water. "He had you all to himself until I came along."

"I wouldn't say _hate_ but yeah, it's been just the two of us as partners for a really long time," Antony admits. "There's some resentment there, aimed more at me than you though. I'm not sure if it would make it better or worse if he met you."

Stephen shrugs, spears a piece of chicken. "S'your call, I'm easy - does he know _who_ I am, or am I just 'Stephen'?" He's not really bothered about Marcus, after all Antony is more than capable of looking after himself.

"I haven't told him _who_ you are but I expect he's figured it out," Antony says, not wanting to admit that Marcus has probably followed them at some point, made sure he knew _exactly_ who Stephen is. "Now that you're living with me, we probably should grab a drink sometime. Maybe you could meet us somewhere after one of our meetings, that way we could make a quick getaway. I don't think I'd want to try for dinner."

That has Stephen raising his brows. "And you're sure he doesn't have issues with me?" he drawls, making it clear he's really not so sure about that. "Look, I'll meet him, but beyond that, I don't particularly want or need to know him, after all, if he does have any significant issue with us," he waves his fork between them, "then how sure are you he won't 'accidentally' tell me something I don't want to know, or you'd decided I didn't need to hear?"

"He won't," Antony says firmly. Of that he's certain. "And his only issue with you is that he considers you a distraction. But once he meets you and realizes you're here to stay, he'll get used to the idea."

"If you say so." Stephen sips his water and returns to his food. He's wondered before now if Marcus is loyal to Antony, or to the money he must be making alongside him. But again, Stephen just has to trust that Antony can look after himself.

"Tell me more about your day," Antony says, changing the topic. "You said it was a lot of physical stuff today?"

"Yeah big ass chase/fight scene - we were working the choreography today, we shoot it tomorrow," Stephen's attention in on his plate as he chases the last noodles around it with his fork. It's a rare day he leaves any hint of food on his plate. "And then I've got a night shoot on Wednesday, so I'll be here during the day and have to head out to work by four."

Antony nods, taking another sip of his beer. "Okay. Anything special you want to do that day, or do you usually just chill out when you have to work?"

"Just hang out, I used to spend that time getting my chores done, catching up with online stuff, you know? But seen as I'm being very well looked after...I guess a lie in, some sex, and I should speak to someone about renting my place out." With his plate clean Stephen sets his cutlery down. "How do you fancy coming up onto set with me?"

The invitation's unexpected but welcome and Antony smiles. "I'd like that very much. For the whole shoot?"

"Or until you get bored," Stephen sets his arms on the countertop, "Just promise me you won't start getting jumpy when I'm doing anything vaguely dangerous." Because yeah, he does as much of his own stunt work as he can, and he likes that, likes them pushing him, after all it's not like he can't take some discomfort or pain.

"I'll do my best," Antony says, not really sure how he'll react to seeing Stephen do his own stunts, "as long as they're taking care of you."

"They take very good care of me, but I do most of my own stunt work, and I like that, you need to respect that. I understand you might be concerned, but you need to trust me in my work, like I do you in yours," he reaches up to press fingertips to the small wrinkle in the centre of Antony's forehead. "And let's be honest, I get more fucking damage in your bed, than I ever have at work," he teases.

That gets a chuckle and Antony blows out a breath, holding his hands up in surrender. "Okay. I promise. I'll not hurt them unless they actually hurt you." The sparkle in his eye making it clear he's teasing. Mostly.

"Great!" Stephen lets his hand fall away. "My regular cast mates know about you, about me, well they do now...but most everyone else doesn't, and I want to keep it that way. So you can be a friend, my personal trainer, or my protection guy..."

"How about both your friend and your protection guy?" Antony says, finishing his food. "That covers us for the rest of the time when we're out together."

"Sure, also gives you a little leeway to show concern if you feel uncomfortable." He laughs then, "How about friend, protection _and_ PA? Because damn, no one else has ever taken better care of me than you do."

Antony grins, happy to hear it. "Just as long as I don't have to pick up your dry cleaning or start buying gifts for your friends."

"You already have picked up my dry cleaning," Stephen points out, with a grin, referring to one particular time when it was more convenient for Antony to do so than for him to. "And you do buy the best gifts...." he laughs then, leaning in to press a kiss to Antony's mouth. "You'd be the most attentive PA anyone's ever seen, after all, you do attend to _all_ my needs."

"Guess I know what I'll be doing when I retire," Antony teases, leaning in for another kiss.

"Sucks to be you hmm?" Stephen laughs softly against Antony's mouth.

"Mm. Maybe. I've heard the fringe benefits are _brilliant_ ," Antony returns, cupping the back of Stephen's neck and smiling at him.

"Oh, they are," Stephen nuzzles his lover's mouth. "The best..."

"I should clean up..." Antony murmurs, more than a little reluctantly, his body starting to respond - _again_ \- to the intimacy between them. "Want to watch something on the new TV? Have your cookies."

"Yes to the TV and cookies suggestion," Stephen pulls back and glances at the small amount of dishes. "Leave this, there's not much, do it in the morning," he slides off his seat. "C'mon we've a new TV to play with."

"Have you seen Game of Thrones or The Walking Dead?" Antony asks, slipping their plates into the dishwasher before leaving everything else. "The guy in the store recommended them so I picked up the first season of both."

"Yeah, sort of, I kept missing episodes," Stephen nods, he puts his water glass on the side and open the fridge to see what else there is to drink. "There is some serious hotness in 'Game of Thrones' though, we should watch that." He peers around the fridge door at Antony. "Another beer?"

"Yeah, please," Antony nods, pulling the container of freshly-baked cookies from the cupboard. "Should I bother putting these on a plate?" he asks with a grin.

Deciding beer would be a bad move, Stephen pulls one bottle out for Antony, and settles on a glass of milk for himself. S'protein, right? He pretends to consider Antony's question. "Um... nah," he laughs, "I'm going to inhale them, you know that right? So if you want any, hide some now." Whilst Stephen is _always_ happy to indulge his sweet tooth, sometimes he goes overboard - and looks like tonight is one of those times.

Antony laughs and picks out three for himself, wrapping them in a paper towel. He grabs some extra napkins and heads for the couch, placing everything on the coffee table before he opens up the Game of Thrones box and gets the TV set up. "So, is this set in medieval times?"

Stephen follows right on behind, glass of cold milk in one hand, beer in the other. "Huh? What planet have you been on for the last couple of years?" He blinks at his lover as he sets the drinks down and picks up a throw from the back of the large couch. "Nah, it's a fantasy thing, though to be fair, I think it's probably more sympathetic to real medieval shit than some stuff that's supposed to be accurate." He parks his butt and drapes the throw over himself, eyeing up the cookies, like he hasn't _just_ downed a plateful of food. "S'all about the power play in this kingdom, between the ruling families...and then there's Khal Drogo..." Stephen trails off with a happy sigh.

"Should I be jealous?" Antony asks, quirking a brow at the sigh. He doesn't mind the ribbing about not being up on current pop culture. Until he met Stephen, aside from a quick googling of a fuck or two, and the watching of a clip or two from Ian's show, he kept his head firmly in the business world. His business.

"Jealous? Only if Jason Momoa dresses like that all the time." Stephen beams a smile that's all sweetness-and-light at his Sir. "And if you can't appreciate him when you see his character, well, then you're fucking dead."

Antony laughs. "I noticed Sean Bean's in it," he says, selecting the first episode and pressing play. "I know him from the club."

"Know? As in 'know'? Or know as in to say 'hi' to?" Stephen queries, eyeing his lover with a vague sense of 'You didn't? Did you?'

"Bit of both," Antony says, taking a bite of cookie, his attention mostly on the screen in front of them. Fuck, it seems huge but the picture's gorgeous. "We played with the same in-house sub in the bar one night."

"Holy fuck! Really?" Stephen's all bug eyed at that, even his cookie is paused, halfway to his mouth. "Dude, I asked you on our first date who you'd scened with...Sean Freaking Bean?"

Antony laughs. "I told you I wasn't going to name names. I gave you Joe because he works for Citadel on occasion."

Stephen waves a hand impatiently at Antony, and even contemplates throwing his cookie at him in exasperation. "Yes yes, but that was before we got serious...s'bit different now!"

Antony pauses the DVD. "I only knew who he was because I'd seen him in this film we watched while waiting on a job. Essex Boys?" He shrugs. "I don't know who half the people are at the club. If they tell me they're an actor and I get a last name, I sometimes google them, but that's about it."

"You know I don't know whether to be amused that you are so oblivious, or a little offended that the sphere I work in is of no interest to you," Stephen shakes his head ruefully - it's plain he's teasing - mostly. "And then...it's also a breath of fresh air that none of that shit impresses you."

"It's not that it's not of any interest," Antony protests. "It's just there's only so many hours in a day and something has to give, so I've always concentrated on business stuff. But I'm trying to branch out," he gestures at the show they're watching, "and I have google alerts set up for you, Ian and Joe."

That has Stephen laughing. "Google Alerts? Joe? Really? That guy is _all over_ the internet," he shakes his head, "That's so sweet darling," he teases, poking Antony in the side. "Okay consider me placated."

"Good. Now eat your cookies," Antony says with a grin and a laugh. "And tell me what the hell's going on," he adds as he starts up the program again. "Who does Sean play?"

Stephen snuggles in, pushing Antony into a place where he can lounge on him comfortably and drags the throw over himself. "Shush and watch it..." he admonishes, before shoving a cookie in his mouth.


End file.
